


If I Look Back I Am Lost

by Twilarose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Durin Family, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilarose/pseuds/Twilarose
Summary: She played with the end of his braid. "If I look back, I am lost.""What does that mean?""That we cannot live in the past, but let it harden us for what comes ahead. We must go forward, no matter the hardship, for it is all we can do."





	If I Look Back I Am Lost

“Kíli’s wounded. His leg needs binding,” Fíli insisted.

Thorin paused, his face dark. “You have two minutes,” he finally growled.

Fíli tore a strip from his shirt and hastily wrapped it around his brother’s leg. “You alright, Kee?” he asked as he applied pressure to the wound, causing the younger dwarf to flinch.

“M’fine,” Kíli muttered, his face ashen.

A commotion near the bank caused both brothers to look up. A Man was standing on the rocks above, and had just released an arrow at Dwalin, hitting his mark right at the center of a long branch he had been sharpening.

Forgetting his injury, Kíli grabbed a nearby rock and prepared to launch it at their assailant, but before he could take proper aim another arrow shot it from his hand. “Do it again, and you’re dead,” the Man growled.

Fíli tensed. They were unarmed, and the Man had clear skill with a bow, yet they still outnumbered him. Perhaps if they rushed him all at once –

“Excuse me,” Balin interrupted Fíli’s planning, “But you’re from Laketown, if I’m not mistaken?” He raised his hands in peace as the Man turned his arrow on him. “That barge over there, it wouldn’t be available for hire by any chance?”

The Man narrowed his eyes at Balin, but finally he lowered his bow. With a scoff, he turned and strode back to his barge with Balin following him. “What makes you think I would help you?”

The rest of the Company trailed after Balin, with Fíli supporting Kíli. He noted that Thorin was standing silently by, letting Balin do all the speaking for him. A wise decision, for the elderly Dwarf was known far and wide for his charm. As he attempted to persuade the bargeman to aid them, Fíli became distracted by a soft groan of pain from Kíli as he leaned up against the rock. Fíli placed a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to put any pressure on it.”

“I _know_,” Kíli knocked Fíli’s hand away. “I’m _fine_, stop fussing.”

“I’m not _fussing_, you just had an arrow in your leg!”

“I’ve had worse, Fee.”

Fíli frowned. True, there was that time Kíli fell off his pony while they were traveling home to Ered Luin from escorting the trade caravan and hit his head so hard that he struggled to remember his childhood or recognize his family and friends; it had taken nearly a week for him until he was back to normal. And when they were much younger, on their first hunt with Thorin, Kíli kept quiet about a cut he received until a raging infection kept him bedridden for three days. Later, he joked that the fever was preferable to Thorin’s rage at his irresponsibility once he was fully recovered.

The difference from his past injuries to this one, however, was that Kíli was able to receive medical attention almost immediately and could take his time to rest until he recovered fully. There would be no chance of rest this time, not with Durin’s Day so near and the Lonely Mountain still so far, and Óin lost all his herbs and medical supplies when the Elves captured them in the forest. It did not seem likely that Thorin would be sympathetic and slacken their pace either, for the closer they drew to Erebor, the more fierce their uncle became in his desire to reach his old home by the time allotted.

Fíli cursed himself. He was in the barrel right next to Kíli, he should have noticed the lever that would have open the river gate and set them free. Instead, his little brother had taken all the risk upon himself and ended up injured. He could have even been left behind as the current swept the barrels away; fortunately, Kíli managed to find the strength to roll and drop into his barrel before it had been too late. Before that, Fíli allowed himself to be separated from Kíli in the spider’s nest. He always looked after his brother; of all the roles in his life, it was the one he took most seriously. He promised his mother before they left Ered Luin that he would keep an eye on Kíli, and he knew Thorin relied on him to keep his brother out of trouble. Now for Fíli to see blood slowly leaking from underneath the binding on Kíli’s leg, the look of pain on his face whenever he moved it… how could Fíli look his mother and uncle in the eye knowing he had failed him, failed his brother?

The thud of wood on wood drew Fíli’s attention from Kíli. The Man had finished loading the last of the barrels onto his barge and was fingering one of the many marks left by the attack of the Elves and the Orcs. “I don’t know what business you had with the Elves, but I don’t think it ended well. No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil.”

After a look from Thorin, Balin tried to press his case, a small note of desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen.”

“Aye, but for that you would need a smuggler.”

“For which we would pay, double.”

The bargeman frowned. Even though he could clearly use the extra gold, Balin’s offer still did not seem to tempt him to help. Fíli noticed Dwalin clenching his fists. He knew his old weapons trainer’s short temper was already severely frayed from their capture and escape from Mirkwood, and he worried that if this Man did not agree to smuggle them in that Dwalin would not hesitate to attack and attempt to take the vessel by force. Normally, such a blatant act of piracy would be unthinkable to Fíli, but if the Man set off without them, not only would they be unable to reach the Lonely Mountain in time, but they would stand no chance against the Orcs when they eventually caught up with them.

A rustling nearby disturbed the tension and gave Fíli a completely new set of concerns. Something was approaching from the surrounding shrubbery, making their way right towards the dock. Surely the Orcs had not caught up with them already? No, this was no pack of Orcs crashing through the forest, howling for blood. This was a lone traveler, but what was it? An Elf scout sent to search for their escaped prisoners? Perhaps the Man had a crewman that was now returning. Everyone focused their attention on the incoming noise, and when its source stepped out from amongst the trees, it was the last thing Fíli expected.

* * *

Talene fingered the black leaves of her once proud tansy. It was no use; the frosts came early and heavy this year, ruining her hopes for one final harvest before returning to Laketown. She let out a long sigh and straightened up. It was not as if there was much to harvest from anyway. More than less of what she planted this year seemed to shrivel in the ground; even the ancient oaks that surrounded her hut had turned white in death. Even keeping to the very edge of Mirkwood had not spared her home from the sickness that swept through the forest.

There was nothing for it. Talene had spent the past few weeks preparing her herbs and salves for the winter, and otherwise she traveled light so it would not take long to gather her things. Bard would be nearby today collecting the almost daily delivery of empty wine barrels from the Woodland Realm; if she hurried, she could catch him before he left for Laketown.

Less than an hour later, her bags resting against the base of one of the dying oaks, Talene was finishing sealing up her small hut for the season. She carefully pushed one of the rush mats disguising the roof back into place as it started to slide off. Hopefully they would last the winter; one spring, several years ago, she came home to a massive hole hacked into the door and the shelves torn down with the drawers ripped from their proper place. A thief looking for wealth in the most unlikely of places. It had taken nearly all Talene’s earnings from her work tending to the people of Laketown during the cold winter months just to replace the door. She had practically nothing, and what she did have she put towards surviving away from civilization or growing and caring for the supplies she would need when she returned to the shabby realm of Men.

Talene ran a hand over her door one final time before leaning a final tree branch against it. It would be months before she could return to her private sanctuary, and even then, if her garden continued to wilt and die as it had for the past two years, she would not be able to stay here. The thought of living in Laketown made her grimace, for despite the time and care she devoted to caring for the Men when they fell ill, Talene could never forget the murmurings and dark looks that haunted her childhood. The rare few who treated her with kindness and respect were what kept her close to the town where she was raised, as well as her love for the art of healing that her father passed on to her.

With one pack on her back and each shoulder bearing a bag of their own, Talene headed down the faint path that led from her humble lodgings to the mouth of the river where she would meet Bard. It was getting late in the day so there was a concern that Bard had already returned to Laketown, but thanks to the Wood Elves great desire for wine and their ability to consume it at a rapid rate, Talene could rely on the Man to return the next day at least. There was an abandoned shanty overlooking the river nearby the dock where she could wait for him to return, which would be a far more pleasant way for her to pass the time than it may sound to others. Despite her decision to isolate herself from the town of her childhood, Talene could never deny that she was a daughter of the lake, and to be so close to the water and be able to watch the light dance off the thick, watery ribbons created by the currents was a simple yet great joy in her life.

As she approached the dock, Talene could make out a tall, slender mast between the trees. It seemed that Bard was delayed in his departure and Talene would be able to make it to Laketown tonight after all. As she drew closer, however, she thought she could hear voices much to her confusion. Bard always traveled alone, and as far as she knew no one else lived in this area who required Bard’s services. Talene pushed aside a branch and the barge came into full view. She froze in shock. A large group of hairy, soaking wet persons were crowded onto the dock, and after a quick glance at Bard and the white-bearded one standing closest to him, Talene realized by the great difference in height between the pair of them that these strangers were Dwarves… and that they were all now staring at her.

Bard shot a frustrated look at the Dwarves before striding over to Talene, offering her a hand to help down from the ledge overlooking the dock. “I wasn’t expecting you for another two weeks at least.”

Talene accept his aid. “The frost changed my plans. I thought it would be best to go over now before the ice begins the form.” She glanced over at the Dwarves, who were still staring at her. “Bard, what’s going on?”

Before the bargeman could answer, a Dwarf wearing a strange looking hat cut in. “You’re a Dwarf!”

Talene blinked, staring level back at him. “So I’ve been told.”

“What are you doin’ in these parts?”

“I live here.” Talene look back at Bard. “What –?”

Bard’s face was set in a stony scowl. “Get onboard, we’re leaving.”

As Talene boarded and began to stow her bags, the Dwarf with the long white beard stepped forward, his old and weather-beaten face creased with desperation. “Please, if you leave us here, we won’t stand a chance! If it’s more gold you’re after –”

“It’s not about that,” Bard hissed. “Why should I risk my family’s wellbeing sneaking you in?” He cast off the final mooring line. “You’ll have to find another way.”

Talene frowned slightly, casting a look over the bedraggled band of Dwarves. As much as Bard needed the extra gold, she could understand his reluctance to assist these strangers. If he was caught the Master would confiscate his barge, and with the loss of his livelihood and income, Bard and his children would slowly starve. Still, Talene could not help but feel sympathy for their plight. As rough as some of these Dwarves appeared (the large bald one with tattoos covering his hands looked as if he wanted to eat Bard alive), they clearly had fallen on hard times.

Two Dwarves that stood slightly apart from the others caught Talene’s eye. The golden haired one was preoccupied with his dark-haired companion, and when he moved slightly to the side, Talene noticed that the dark one was leaning against the rock for support and that a bandage was wrapped around his leg just above his knee.

As Bard prepared to cast off, Talene gave him a long look. “Bard…”

His brow creased. “You cannot be serious.”

“You need the gold, and they have wounded.”

“And if I am caught?”

Talene raised an eyebrow. “I thought you never get caught.”

Bard held her gaze for a few moments, then tossed a rope to the startled Dwarves. “Come on then, and get your coin ready.” He glanced back a Talene. “Any trouble they bring will be on your conscience.”

“They’re unarmed, half-drowned, and most likely starving, Bard. What harm could they do to us?”

* * *

Fíli stayed close to Kíli as his brother limped aboard the barge. “Don’t strain yourself too much. Here, sit down.”

Kíli obeyed, settling on a pile of thick rope, but he still scowled at his brother. “Will you just stop? I keep telling you, I’m _fine_.”

Bilbo appeared at Fíli’s elbow. “I’m sorry, but that’s an _arrow wound_. You better have Óin take a look at that. Do you need anything? Water?”

Kíli rolled his eyes. “Bilbo, I’ve swallowed an entire river’s worth of water just in the past hour. Why would I want more?”

“Leave him alone, he’s just trying to help.”

“Durin’s _beard_, if you don’t lay off –”

“Excuse me, may I help?” They turned to see the Dwarf maid standing behind them. “Or would you prefer if I ‘lay off’ as well?”

Kíli remained stubbornly silent, but Fíli stepped forward. “Do you know how to treat his wound?”

She nodded, her brown eyes meeting Fíli’s blue ones. “It’s my job to know how.”

Fíli stepped aside, granting her access to Kíli. “I’m Fíli, and this is my brother Kíli, at your service.”

“Talene, though it would appear you are in need of my services more than I am of yours,” she answered with a wry smile. Talene bent down to examine Kíli’s bindings. “What caused this?”

“Arrow,” Fíli answered shortly. Best not to go into specifics concerning the type of arrow. If the bargeman, who he heard Talene calling Bard, was concerned about the Elves being involved in their journey down the river, he was certain to become even more displeased if he discovered that Orcs were present as well.

Talene gently began to unwind the hasty wrapping Fíli gave Kíli. He let out a low hiss as she pulled the final piece off the open wound and examined the fabric in her hands. “Where did this come from?”

Fíli cleared his throat. “I bound him up myself.”

Glancing at the torn hem of Fíli’s shirt, Talene gave him a small smile. “I’m afraid you’ll find that an unclean wrapping can do more damage than the actual injury itself.” Setting the cloth aside and ignoring the smirk Kíli threw at Fíli, she turned her attention to Bilbo. Taking in his bare feet and pointed ears, she said, “You’re not like the others, are you, Mister…”

“Bilbo Baggins, miss, and no, I’m a Hobbit from the Shire.”

Talene smiled warmly. “What a pleasure for me then, meeting my first Hobbit and my first Dwarves on the same day. If you would be so kind, Mister Baggins, to fetch me my bag? It’s the one with the two red patches.”

Kíli stared incredulously at Talene as Bilbo did as he was asked. “You’ve never seen another Dwarf before?”

Talene’s face was unreadable. “Not in my memory. I was raised in Laketown by Men, by a good man, Bryden, son of Brandon. It’s the only life I’ve ever known.” Bilbo returned with Talene’s bag, and after rummaging through it for a moment, she pulled out some clean linen and a small jar. After checking the label, she opened it and began to apply its contents to Kíli’s wound. “This should prevent any infection.”

Fíli watched Talene work. She certainly did not look like a typical Dwarrowdam at first glance. There was no intricate braiding throughout her brown hair, just a long, simple single braid with stray strands loose around her face. Her face was shockingly smooth, no proud beard, just a thick set of sideburns. Even her name was that of Men; only her stature revealed her Dwarvish heritage. Yet Fíli could not hold any of that against her, for she seemed kind, and undaunted by being surrounded by the Company. “How did you come to live here?”

By now Bard had cast off from the dock and was guiding them towards open water where the mist lay heavily over the lake. Talene paused in her rebinding of Kíli’s wound and closed her eyes momentarily. “When I asked my father, he told me that for many years, small bands of Dwarves would occasionally wander the borders of the lake, that they were drawn to the mountain. When the last group left, a little over 70 years ago, I was discovered as a small baby on the bridge joining Laketown to the mainland.”

She glanced up at Fíli briefly. “I’ll never know who they were, or why they chose to abandon me the way that they did. I would have surely died if it were not for the good heart of my father. He raised me and cared for me as if I was his own flesh and blood, teaching me everything he knew of healing and caring for the sick. When he died…” Talene swallowed before continuing, “When he died, it became clear that it would be best if I made my home on the river rather than the lake,” she grimaced slightly. “The descendants of Dale have a long memory, and there are many who have no fondness for Dwarves.”

Talene put the finishing knot on Kíli’s dressing. “That should do well. Stay off this leg as much as you can, and chance the dressing daily and keep the wound clean. If it does become infected, come see me as soon as possible, or a yarrow poultice should serve just as well if you cannot.”

Kíli gave Talene his thanks, then Fíli asked, “If they do not accept Dwarves in Laketown, why are you returning there now? Why not seek out your own kind?”

“When my father died, his cousin Trenn took over his apothecary,” Talene answered. “He’s more than capable when it comes to cutting fish hooks out of arms, and has a fair hand at mixing salves, but any form of illness terrifies him. Despite everything, I cannot turn my back on those who needs me. So, we agreed that I would come stay with him during the winter when illness becomes more common and tend the sick for him, and return I get a warm, safe place to wait out the winter and a portion of the earnings.”

“As for ‘seeking out my own kind,’” Talene gave Fíli an almost sympathetic look, “I have no skill at defending myself, no means of travel, and no knowledge of your customs. How successful do you think I would be?”

The barge suddenly veered hard to port, narrowly avoiding an ancient rock column rising from the depths of the lake. Thorin glared at their bargeman from the gathering at the bow. “What are you trying to do, drown us?”

“I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf,” the Man answered drily. “If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here.”

As the rest of the Company returned to their mutterings, Kíli looked up a Fíli. “Are we sure he won’t try and drown us later?”

“He won’t,” Talene cut in firmly. “Once Bard gives his word, he keeps it. He’s a good man, and a devoted father.” She smiled slightly. “He’s just showing off some, that’s all.”

Fíli and Kíli were no longer paying attention, for the mist had broken and through the clouds they could finally see it, looming over them like a sentinel; the Lonely Mountain. The goal of their quest, the subject of the stories of their childhood, the seat of their forefathers. Fíli risked a quick glance at his brother. He was still pale but standing on his own. He was grateful for Talene’s care of his brother and hoped it would bring on a fast recovery.

Bard strode past them, blocking the mountain from their view. He approached Thorin, hand outstretched. “The money, give it to me.”

“We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before,” Thorin responded curtly.

“If you value your freedom, you’ll do as I say. There are guards ahead,” Bard pressed urgently. “The money, now, and into the barrels.”

Fíli glanced at Talene, who nodded. She promised they could trust Bard to get them to Laketown safely, and for some reason he trusted her. Besides, it was not like they had any other choice.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been floating in my head for years and for some reason I finally decided to write it down. Review and I'll send you a Dwarf barrel, and leave a kudo as well gets the barrel full of Elvish wine.


End file.
